


One Rule: No Magic is allowed in the Hunger Games

by Crumbles_Of_Reality



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Merlin (TV), The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: AU, Graphic, Hunger Games, Hunger Games AU, Hunger Games Twist, Kind Morgana, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merthur - Freeform, Possibly Triggering, Violence, evil Mordred, evil Morgause, friendly Morgana, gory, i hope you all enjoy, kudos, merlin and arthur - Freeform, one chapter, please kudos, this took me two weeks hahahaahacrihaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crumbles_Of_Reality/pseuds/Crumbles_Of_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Morgana. District 11. Both chosen for the Hunger Games. </p><p>And the problem is, the one rule there is, they both have broken the second their name has been pulled from the bowl: No Magick of Any Sorts in the Hunger Games. </p><p>Arthur Pendragon, supposedly part of the Careers. No one apart from his father objects to his rowdy Volunteering, it wasn't unusual in District 4. They obviously didn't notice the shaking young 12 year old being chosen for the Games. </p><p>Both misunderstood, Merlin and Arthur enter the Games as enemies. </p><p>The thing is, only one of them can return anyway, so what would it matter if they became friends? </p><p> </p><p>Authors Note: This took me over three weeks, and although the summary may be crappy I can assure you the story is not. Please read and leave a Kudos if you liked it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Rule: No Magic is allowed in the Hunger Games

**Author's Note:**

> I worked my bottom off on this and I pray that everyone enjoys this, it seems my last Universe Crossover thing was a hit so this one just came to me naturally. :)

(Four words to 11000)

The frivolously dressed lady washed her hand around the glass bowl, teasingly grabbing at the tips of the papers. Her hand fluttered over one, and pulled it out of the bowl. This was the name of a poor innocent girl whose life was about to be ripped to shreds, taken from underneath her and thrown into a pot that was near boil already. 

“Morgana Brunhield.” The lady drawled, obviously enjoying herself. Merlin watched, horrified, as the girl walked up to the stage shakily. She was beautiful, and young. She did not deserve this. As a 17 year old, Merlin would understand should he be picked, he had entered his name into the bowl as much a possible, hoping to serve his mother well while his father worked for meats and other delicacies. She was guided up the steps, almost gliding across them. Showing no sign of emotion, she stood to face the crowd, a face like stone to match theirs. 

The lady trotted over to the boy’s bowl. It was nearly filled with paper, as was the girl’s, but Merlin couldn’t help but feel some dread when she dipped her hand into the bowl, swirling around inside of it once more. Like lightning, she seemed to find her target, and a messily folded slip of paper emerged from the white sea. 

The lady opened it up, and in a voice sweeter than honey, Merlin heard a name he wished he would never hear again, for it simply would not do to be called out to by such a horrible person. 

“Merlin Emrys.” Merlin felt sick to the bone. Somewhere, in the back of his thoughts, he heard a woman scream, and he walked sullenly to the stage. He nodded at Morgana, who smiled warily at him. Merlin watched blankly as his mother was pulled away, sobbing grossly. It seemed he had no emotion, but the waves of shock rolling over him told otherwise. He wobbled a little on stage, and felt the need to empty his measly lunch of uncooked oats. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! It seems we have our contestants! Morgana Brunhield, and Merlin Emrys. Happy 34th Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.” She smiled. The Panem Anthem began playing, and they were granted their five minutes to speak to family. 

Merlin’s mother rushed in, trying as best as she could to hold back sobs. His father walked in slowly, as if each step was a punch to the gut, and stood by the door, waiting for his mother to say goodbye. Finally, after Merlin consoled his mother, Balinor walked to him gravely.

“My son, you were born with the gift. No matter what the rules may be, you must use them it you are in pain. Nothing can stop you. There’s something more… _powerful_ about you, Merlin. Use it for good,” His father whispered. As the peacekeepers came in to pull them away, his father clutched his hand, then walked away, led by the peacekeepers. 

Merlin wondered what his father had left in his hand, and, once the peacekeepers were gone, he opened his palm. A ring wobbled around, a band of silver that seemed to have a unique, amber colored gem embedded inside it. Perhaps it was amber, but Merlin doubted it because of how poor his district was. District 11 was in charge of harvesting crops and planting them. Thankfully, the older men labored in the fields while Merlin sought out the trees for his jobs. Using his gifts he would collect more than what he needed each day, and once again, his eyes would flash gold and three apples would appear in their home. They were not missed, for Panem was greedy and selfish, and took more than what they needed. 

Merlin subconsciously realized that he was being led to the train, his hand still curled around the cool metal of the ring. He slipped it on, and it fit like a charm. Knowing his father, Merlin wouldn’t put it past him for it to actually _be_ a charm. He knew of no way for the capitol to tell, so perhaps it would be of some use. 

He stepped into the padded floors of the train, nearly collapsing at how achingly sweet the room smelled. He glanced around, immediately noticed the ginormous table of delicacies waiting for them. He realized the lady who had pulled the names was with them, along with two people, a man and woman, who Merlin assumed to be the victors of the previous Hunger Games. 

“I’m Chaff, and this is Seeder. We’ll be your mentors for the games…” He trailed off, eyeing Merlin with sorrow. Merlin smiled at him, but it felt more like a grimace. Although Chaff couldn’t see it, Merlin was strong and healthy. He happened to be very good at climbing, for he was light and it wasn’t hard for him to pull himself up into the trees as a harvester. He didn’t have that bad of an aim, either, but it was nothing to brag about unless he used skills. 

“Nice to me- Um, hello.” Merlin said awkwardly. Chaff smiled in return, and Seeder was speaking to Morgana. Chaff nodded towards the food, and Merlin’s mouth began to water. He sat down at the lengthy table next to Morgana, across from Chaff so they could talk face to face. Chaff began serving himself, and Merlin followed, scooping up about everything he could get his hands on in small amounts. He wanted to try it all, at least before h- Merlin stopped himself from thinking about the games, but just as he had succeeded, Chaff brought up the very subject.

“Merlin, do you have any skills?” He asked, somewhat politely, through a mouthful of food that was pushed to the side of his cheek for eligible speaking. Merlin froze, not sure whether he should tell this victor or not. Surely he wouldn’t betray him, right? But Merlin could not be sure, and so he just coughed, then looked up. 

“I can lift heavy objects with ease and happen to be extremely good at navigating in trees. I am an ok throw, but I wouldn’t say I’m excellent unless I use my-” Merlin stopped like a deer in headlights, paling in horror at what he had been about to say. Chaff looked at him thoughtfully, before realization fell upon him. His eyes widened, and he mouthed,  
“The gift?” 

Merlin felt sick, but nodded, mouthed back,  
“A very powerful one.” 

The man looked taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected as much from such a seemingly scrawny boy. But then again, Merlin was full of surprises. Chaff nodded, his brow creased in worry, then his own eyes flashed a gold before it quickly dissipated. Merlin couldn’t help but hold his breath, and a small grin crossed his face. He wasn’t alone. 

After finishing the meal, the victors and tributes walked together to a sound-proof room where nothing could be heard or seen. There were no cameras, and no audio recorders. Just a private room to discuss. Seeder whispered something into Chaff’s ear, who grinned in return. He turned to the shaky tributes and smiled. 

“So you both have the gift?” He chuckled, and Morgana and Merlin shared a surprised glance. 

“Don’t worry, we both do to. This will be interesting.. I had many ways to use my gift in the games, and was not caught once. There are skills to learn, and things to know. We will teach them to you. Merlin, you say you know how to climb well, right? That’s good, high viewpoints are always an advantage. And Morgana, you said you are good with a needle? Spears seem to resemble needles, do they not?” Seeder grinned, already planning battle. It seemed that Merlin and Morgana would be fighting together, and Morgana did not object, but only smiled sweetly at Merlin. 

That night, the anthem of Panem began playing, and the TVs automatically switched on, displaying a presidential face. The man made a speech, then the chosen tributes face’s flashed on the screen. District 12, 11 -Merlin cringed-, 10, 9, 8 -a rather young boy for which Merlin felt awful for-, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. The last 4, 2, and 1 all had burly tributes who had scrambled to volunteer for others who were just as willing to go. But upon seeing District 4, he had heard Seeder gasp a little. He turned, and her eyes were brimming with mischief. Merlin raised his eyebrow, and she laughed mirthlessly. 

“That was Uther Pendragon’s boy, Arthur. And Uther is the _Mayor_ , Merlin. Isn’t this great? Oh, I’m sure Uther will be furious at the boy, but there’s nothing he can do about it!” She grinned deviously, singing the last sentence in a singsong vigor. Merlin smiled at her -slight- insanity, but still glanced worriedly at the screen. Even if Uther was going to be annoyed, Arthur looked the strongest and meanest of them all.  
Merlin gulped. 

In the late hours of night the train skidded to a stop at Panem. The people -who were dressed gaudily- screamed and shouted in delight at Merlin and Morgana. Merlin smiled a little and waved, knowing the more people that liked him was better, and may benefit him later on. Girls swooned, and guys did too. It made Merlin blush a little to get all this attention. 

Once they were in the “hotel” you might call it, Merlin attempted to dispatch for his room. Unfortunately, he was revoked of that right, and whisked to a room that was definitely not for sleeping in. They lay him down on a cushioned table, and left, telling him to undress. Merlin stared incredulously after them, but eventually did as the people had asked reluctantly, and he grabbed at his clothes again when different people returned. They were all smiling like hyenas, and Merlin realized these were what some Victors may call “Caretakers.” They cleaned you up and made you look nice. 

They gazed up and down at his body and grinned, exchanging glances between eachother of delight. Like a whirlwind, they zoomed around him, pushing his starkly nude body against the bed, not caring at all of what he looked like, but what he would become. 

After what seemed like hours of pampering and pain, Merlin was “prepared” for the chariot ride. They handed him his clothing, and he gasped. It was gorgeous. He was given a shimmering golden suit fit for a king, with a scarlet undershirt and a iridescent white tie. A silky, clear golden cape was torn to shreds, but Merlin soon realized it was in the shape of wheat and branches. It cured and billowed wildly at the slightest of drafts, and Merlin, for once, felt beautiful. He knew immediately that the shimmering golden suit stood for their greatest crop this year, the golden apple, and the scarlet of the less fantastic gala apple. The white was for purity of the fertile lands. 

He walked out of the room into a well lit one, and gasped when he saw someone in the mirror. With realization, he saw that it was himself. Clean shaven, without a hint of stubble. The suit hugged tight to his figure flatteringly, and his hair was trimmed and curled in an attractive way. His blue eyes sparkled clearly and his eyelashes framed his eyes nicely. He thought he looked half decent, but then Morgana stepped into the same room as him, pushed out by her “Caretakers”. 

She was stunning. Her dark brunette locks were curled into a frenzy, and her eyes had a golden shimmer and eyeliner shaping into branches of an apple tree on either side. Her dress glowed golden, and she too had a cape like his, but at the bottom of hers pink and white apple blossoms scattered the garment. Her hair was twisted in places they had tucked pink flowers into her hair. For such a young girl, the dramatic makeup made it hard to believe she was 14. Her dress was flowing and reached her feet, but when you walked you could see golden slippers of the finest silk, and she looked incredibly pretty. 

“Morgana! You look great!” He smiled, and she smiled back sadly. 

“Thanks, you do too.” She replied politely, and together they waited in comfortable silence until their chariot arrived. Their horses were white and adorned with flowers, and together they looked incredible. Seeder reminded them to wave and smile at the crowd, go all out, because they needed the sponsors. They climbed onto the chariot shakily, and stood as the horses started trotting. Their capes billowed, sending flares of light everywhere and creating quite a sight. One by one the chariots left the lobby area and made their way down the main road, the crowd roaring and screaming. The screaming was drowned out from a distance, but once Morgana and him were out of the lobby the ruckus became nearly unbearable. They waved and smiled their winning smiles, and Merlin even took a stray flower and threw it into the crowd. Screeching like a cat, a young man got the flower. Merlin smiled in surprise and waved, and people crooned and cooed. He was loved, even if it was only for a moment before he was thrown into the battle. 

Once all the chariots had found their place and they were “parked” successfully, the crowds cheers dropped a decibel, and then another. Soon they were all but silent apart from a few hoots and cheers. The president walked up to the balcony on which he was to make his speech, then they would talk with Bayard, the jolly man who tried to make the Hunger Games more glamorous than gory. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, victors and tributes.. welcome to the 34th Hunger Games!” He began, and the crowd went wild with cheers. They silenced once more as he raised his hand. 

“As you all know, there are recurring rules: No magick, and no more than one victor,” -more cheers- 

“And now, to Bayard…,” He waved his hand, and again the crowd began to shout and scream. The chariots were brought through wide doors, then shut with a slam. They had about half an hour before they had to go on stage with Bayard, who they had seen last wearing a ridiculous yellow suit, eyebrows, eyelashes, hair and eyes to match. Looking at the broadcasting of Bayard entertaining the crowd, it seemed tonight he was green. 

Merlin tromped off the chariot and was relieved to be safe on solid ground. Morgana nodded to him, and they went their separate ways to see if they could find allies like they had planned. Merlin happened to stumble into a bad-mooded Career, and he was growled at by a vicious looking young boy with curly brown hair and striking blue eyes. Merlin shuddered at the boy who looked up at him, and scampered away. 

Scampering right into someone else. Merlin turned with wide eyes into the amused eyes of the boy he had heard was Arthur Pendragon. 

“Uh, uh… sorry!” He squeaked, and, mistaking the boy’s expression for anger, Merlin began to flee. 

“Wait! What’s your name? I didn’t pay attention to the television, there was no point.” He grinned cockily. Merlin continued retreating as Arthur continued stepping closer. Soon they were standing eye to eye. 

“Merlin!” Merlin breathed, then ran away over to someone from District 12. He didn’t look back, but if he had he may -or may not, who knows- have seen a disappointed and slightly upset Arthur. 

The rest of the half hour flew by and soon Merlin found himself lined up and next in line to go and greet the crowd. The buzzer next to Bayard rang, and he heard his name being called. In a nervous daze, he strided out onto the stage, giving the crowd his winning grin. Bayard smiled at him, and welcomed him. 

“Merlin! Please, sit down,” He motioned to the green chair for him to sit on.  
“So, I’ve heard the people -girls and boys- are quite into you, am I right?”  
Merlin blushed, and people screamed in awe.  
“If they say they are!” He joked, smiling kindly. Bayard laughed, a cheesy and plastic sound that nearly made Merlin shudder. He managed to hold back the shiver and smiled wider. As the crowd cheered, their interview continued. 

“So Merlin, any talents of importance?” Bayard asked the question lightly, but Merlin could tell he wanted to know, he heard something darker in his tone.

“Oh, I do,” He began, and the crowd almost edged closer before Merlin continued, “but they’re a secret!” He winked, and some of the crowd groaned -and some laughed- and Bayard continued his quick interview. 

“And so, Merlin, do you plan to do well in the gym tomorrow? Any muscles you’d like to show off?” Bayard grinned and wiggling his green eyebrows. Merlin smirked -all as an act, of course- and flexed his arms. Due to the stretchy, tight fabric, even the slightest movements highlighted his toned muscles. Bayard gasped, and Merlin took the opportunity to make a masterfully crafted pun. 

“I’m not making you _green_ , am I?” He inquired, grinning “thoughtfully”. The crowd roared with laughter and Bayard guffawed. He clapped Merlin on the shoulder and the buzzer rang. 

“Alas, we’ve had a good chat, have we not Merlin, but it is time for you to depart!” Bayard smiled sorrowfully, and Merlin got up, faking his own sorrow and blowing a kiss before striding off in the direction of the other contestants. He bid Morgana good luck, and was nearly shaking with the aftermath of being in front of so many people. Thank goodness he had had such good charisma, otherwise his chance of getting sponsors might have been slim. 

He headed to his room, walking into the opening glass elevator quickly. To his horror, the boy Arthur was in it. Merlin turned away, instead going to a different one, when Arthur called on. 

“Oh, come on, I won’t bite!” He groaned, and Merlin sighed, turning to face him. Arthur’s exasperated face lit up when Merlin began to walk back to the elevator. He grumpily pressed the “11” button and together they ascended in an awkward silence. Arthur pushed the button “R’, above level 12, and Merlin realized he was going to the roof. He wondered what it would look like, and decided he would go later. 

He walked off of the elevator and his stop, ignoring the annoying Arthur when he called goodbye. Upon arriving to his room he stripped off all the increasingly uncomfortable clothing and climbed into the shower. It had a fairly simple handle, Hot or Cold, but upon that the simpleness ceased to exist. Buttons causing bubbles and streams of scented water to appear were in plenty, and Merlin tried them all -or at least, most of them-. After a lengthy shower, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a amazingly soft towel that seemed to melt into him and absorb all moisture. 

He got dressed into comfortable clothes, black sweatpants and a particularly soft jumper. He decided after he was cozy that he would head up to the roof. Surely no one was there at the moment. He walked to his -personal- elevator and pressed the button “R”. As the elevator climbed he entertained himself with his slippers that he had put on at the last minute. 

The elevator ride was over quickly, gliding smoothly to a halt and dinging quietly. The billowing winds rushed to meet him as the doors opened, and he was hit with the sweet scent of lavender and mint. Hanging potted plants swaying in the breeze in a glass room, which had opened doors to the roof. 

Merlin walked out in wonder, happy and in awe at the twirling flowers and mystifying scents. It seemed magical, hardly a thing to expect in a place like the Capitol. He breathed in the air with relish and smiled to himself, a smile that could brighten anyone’s day. Of course, he didn’t know that, but the boy Arthur, who had been admiring the view himself when he heard the elevator ding. He had quickly ran to a corner to the room and hid there, hoping not to be seen and immensely pleased when he discovered who was arriving on the rooftop.

Merlin, meanwhile, walked out of the glass enclosure and was stunned by the bright lights looming just below the building. He gaped at the sight, and almost ran to the side to look over the edge. Tiny ants of people were milling around in celebration, their voices not carrying to Merlin’s height. 

Merlin had heard that if you were to jump off the building, it would bounce you right back up. He didn’t particularly want to test that theory, so instead he wondered if the walls were guarded. They were thick, and Merlin pulled himself up onto it and swung his legs over the edge, letting them hang down far below him.

To others, it may have been daunting. To Merlin, it was instinctual. He smiled contentedly to himself, sitting there for as long as he could, thinking about what he was to do if he managed to escape the games. It was a weird thought, the idea of not being in poverty constantly and actually being able to afford things. He decided he wouldn’t think of that unless he was forced to, and instead continued looking upon the city. He didn’t know if it would be his last time. 

“Nearly thought you were going to jump,” A voice rang out behind him, barely carrying in the swift winds. Merlin startled, looking over his shoulder worriedly. 

“Why would I do that? They have a barrier that would push me right back up,” Merlin stated, not bothering to care that Arthur was, yet again, being a pest. A thought did cross his mind, though. 

“Did you watch me this _whole_ time?” He squinted at the blonde haired bloke, who looked somewhat sheepish suddenly. He looked past Merlin’s shoulder at something in the distance, avoiding his gaze.

“Er…. well, you see, I was already out here and you happened to come along so I hid and..” He trailed off, looking at Merlin nervously, not knowing what to expect. Merlin smirked at him a little, realizing this seemingly emotionless guy could be embarrassed quite easily. 

“Yeah, yeah. What were you doing up here anyway?” He inquired. His grin was small and tentative, and it felt like he was making a new friend. But he couldn’t let his guard, down, because this guy, Arthur, could just as well be tricking him into a one-sided alliance. 

“Just thinking..” He muttered, a vacant stare now occupying his face. Merlin smiled wider -just slightly- , and motioned for Arthur to sit next to him. Arthur obliged, and together they spoke quietly about the Hunger Games, how nice a Democracy would be, how they lived and what they did, nearly all through the night. Merlin felt as if he had made an acquaintance. 

The next day, it was time for training. Merlin was thankful for the distraction. He couldn’t keep his mind off the ever-looming games. It pressed against all his thoughts, but the moment he entered the gym he thought of nothing other than how to train. 

Since he knew how to lift weights and throw and all that already, he decided on using the majority of his time learning survival skills. He was a little hurt when Arthur ignored him when he arrived, but masked it as an intense training look. He learnt how to make fishhooks (just in case), roughly memorized the charts of berries and herbs (what’s poisonous or not), and make a fire, all in good time (three hours). 

Next, after deciding that his time was well spent in those areas, he moved to more physical training. After expertly tossing weights (and earning a few surprised looks) he changed to knife/ spear throwing. He made a few dodgy attempts, and even nearly hit a fellow tribute, but after what could be estimated as an hour he got his aim perfected to 7/10 bullseyes. 

Wrapping it up, he moved to wrestling, and was easily brought down time after time by the more burly of tributes. After learning their fighting techniques, though, it was easy enough to predict their moves, -slow down time, _maybe_ \- and put in a good punch or two. When he managed to defeat the best, he heard a shrill bell go off and realized his training time for that day was up. He headed to his floor and ate, and then awaited the meeting where he would have to impress the gamemakers. 

Two hours later, Merlin was called down to the gym once more. Instead of walking right in, steel bars covered the entrance, shrouding the hallway in darkness. Sullen-faced tributes sat lined against the wall, and Merlin took his place in the seat marked, ‘Male 12.’ 

He had apparently arrived very late, which really wasn’t unlike him, for he was up next. Despite this, he still waited around half an hour to enter. When it finally was his turn, he strode in as if he had conquered the world. Which, of course, he hadn’t, and in fact, he hadn’t even planned what he might do. Glancing around, he decided he would go to knife throwing. 

He picked up a knife, and immediately golden pixels animated to the shape of people charged at him one by one. Keeping his eyes open -and possibly slightly gold- , he rose up the levels until ten people at a time were charging at him. After he hit twenty, his mind stopped working, it had all become routine. _Slice, cut, hit, gone. Slice, cut, hit, gone._

Before he knew it the holograms were gone and he had beaten the ‘game’. The gamemakers, perched delicately on the balcony, were all gawking at him in bewilderment. One of them reached for the microphone halfheartedly and stammered,  
“Y-you can go! Next please!” 

Merlin walked out of the room almost forgetting to put the knife down in his hurry to leave. The elevator took him directly to his floor, where he waited in dread and excitement for Morgana, Seeder, and Chaff. After another half hour Morgana arrived, and shortly after that Chaff and Seeder walked through the door into the lounge. Together they chatted idly about how well they thought they might have done until the TVs switched themselves on, blaring to life with vigor. 

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Hunger Games Tribute Reviews!” Bayard smiled cheerfully, showing off his pearly whites. He did a quick introduction before the tribute’s faces popped up on the screen, from District 1 to 12. There was barely anyone who got above a 9. District 4 girl got a 10, and so did District 7 boy, and the District 1 boy Merlin had bumped into, _Mordred_ , got a 10. When the time came for his name to be said, he expected a 3, maybe a 4. His score shocked him. 11? He felt someone clap his back and some cheering, but he knew what this meant. He was a bigger target for Careers, and something told him Mordred wasn’t going to be happy that Merlin got a higher score than him. 

After the “celebrating” of Merlin’s highscore and Morgana’s 10, Merlin walked to his room, trampling on any hopes of being a small target so as not to get his hopes up. After taking a quick shower, he sighed, knowing that the day after tomorrow’s private training day would be the day he goes into the arena. On that happy thought he collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost instantly, a grimace still plastered on his face. 

The next morning, Merlin stuffed himself with delicacies once more and went on his way to the gym. He had had his time booked early in the morning, and Chaff was already there, waiting. He grinned at Merlin, and although Merlin felt positively green, he smiled and waved back, walking to Chaff. 

“So, Merlin, what are we doing today? I doubt you’ll still want to work on knives,” Chaff asked him, and Merlin nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I was thinking I could learn how to make snares. I’ll need some way to get food if I’m not going to the Cornucopia!” He smiled. They had already discussed the plan: Run straight away from the beginning circle as fast as you can to the closest covering, then find a good place for shelter and look for water, then set snares. It sounded so simple, so routine, but it was going to be harder than Merlin could ever imagine. 

They headed to the area of snares to work on nooses and nets and knots, tying and untying again and again until Merlin was sure he had mastered it. Next he worked on his climbing a little, just to keep in shape, and finally he went back to weaponry and attempted the bow and arrow, which he failed miserably at. 

“Tribute 12, please leave the training center for Tribute 4. Tribute 12, please leave the..” The robotic female voice repeated, and Merlin sighed, walking out of the training center, passing a blonde boy… Arthur… on his way out. He got on the elevator and went to his room, but before entering, decided to head to Morgana to talk about strategies. 

He knocked quietly on her door, hoping he wasn’t waking her up.  
“Morgana? Are you in there?” He whispered, and the door opened smoothly to reveal a rather bedraggled looking Morgana. 

“Yes? Do you need anything, Merlin?” She asked, her voice sincere but tired. 

“No, no, I was just hoping we could go over strategies? I’m nervous..,” He muttered, and Morgana smiled at him with sympathy. Despite him being older than her, she was like a mother to him. Which, thinking about it, wasn’t a good thing, because it meant he would have to watch her die… or worse, kill her. 

“Sure, yeah, I’m nervous too. Come in,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes. She snapped her fingers, and in a flash she looked as if she had been up for hours. Merlin smiled at her devious use of magic. Together they sat down on her bed and began discussing what to do, and what possibilities there would be to team together. The day seemed to fly by, and before he knew it he was in his bed, a pit of butterflies breeding and fluttering in his stomach. He was attempting to sleep, but it was simply impossible without help. 

Thinking about help, Merlin had an idea. Thinking through spells, he finally muttered one that made him instantly fall asleep. He barely had enough time to say the entire spell before he conked out. 

He woke up to a blaring Panem anthem, and shuddered. Today was the day, today was the day. He got clothed into the white sheet-like outfit and was shocked when PeaceKeepers stood alert outside his door. They lead him forcefully to an elevator, pushing him inside and pressing a button that he had never seen before. It led them down, below level 1, below even the gym and the storage rooms. They stepped out of the elevator in unison, pulling Merlin along, and what Merlin saw shocked him. 

Another train, underground. He guessed it was leading directly to the preparation areas for the arena. They walked onto the train, which was a lot less luxurious than the first one he had been on, and they shot off down a dark tunnel. Merlin stumbled backwards, and was held up by the ever-stiff peacekeepers. 

In minutes, they were at a grey, dull basement. Merlin knew with dread that right above him was the arena. He was shaky, barely able to walk without stumbling. They pushed him into a cell that was sparsely decorated with a bed and a glass of water. Merlin groped at the glass and sipped a little, his hands clammy. His “Caretakers” arrived, and he was glad for the distraction. They were clucking and muttering, an it almost sounded like they were upset. 

They dressed him quickly and left, and finally, Chaff walked in. 

“Hey, bud,” Chaff smiled sadly at him. Merlin nodded, shaking still. He knew a way to calm himself down would be to sip the water slowly, and he needed to be hydrated. Chaff handed him an orange and he ripped into it ravenously. Once he was done, he took the time to notice his outfit. 

It was a light colored t-shirt that was downy and warm, and his pants were somewhat comfortable and not very bulky. He had a thin fleece coat that was making him overheat, and it was all colored lightly. Merlin felt even more dread at this. 

“Chaff… I think this environment is going to be light… and cold.. It’s gonna be cold!” Merlin realized in horror. Cold was the worst, it was so easy to die of hypothermia. He sat there, shaky, waiting for the announcer to announce his doom. 

Chaff sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and patting him reassuringly. It didn’t really help, but it was nice to know that Merlin had someone to confide to.. not that he would. 

“Merlin, I just wanted you to know.. I believe you can make it, bud. Morgana’s tough, but I ain’t ever seen anybody like you. I think, honestly, that if you can manage to kill Morgana, or someone does it for you, you can win easily. I checked, the Capitol has no way to track use of magic. You’re the most powerful warlock I know, Merlin. Just remember not to worry too much, because I believe in you, and I’ll make sure you get as many sponsors as possible. Not that you’ll need it, but…” He smiled at him, and Merlin was eternally grateful for the praise. He smiled at Chaff’s joking, realizing he had become quite fond of the man and that he was like a father to him. Not that his own father was any bad, but it’s not like he could be there. 

Ruining the moment, the voice of doom crackled to life. 

“All tribute enter the tubes that will bring you to the arena within 10 minutes, please. Any disobeyers will be executed upon command. All tributes enter the tubes that will bring you to the arena within 10 minutes, please.” Merlin gulped, holding back a whimper of horror. The event that had loomed so ominously in the distance had finally come to be. 

After five minutes of staring shakily at the wall, another announcement went off. Merlin this time stood up, waiting until there was two minutes left before walking shakily into the tube. 

“Please be in the tube before 10...9….8...7...6…” Merlin felt shaking underneath him and knew the tube was getting ready to rise up. It started climbing the moment the announcer hit 0, and soon he could no longer see Chaff. He nearly broke down, but knew that wouldn’t help him in any way. Now he just had to endure a second countdown before he ran… for his life, and so much more. He rose in the dimly lit tunnel until a blinding light blocked his view, and he knew he had hit the surface.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he was already out in the open. To his horror -or what more horror he could bear to muster up- it really was a snow field, open and stretched. He was suddenly glad of the fleece that seemed to pull in warmth, and he hugged it around himself tighter. He decided he’d make a run into the nearest pines, which were abound 50 yards away. He would need to be fast. Billowing winds blew up flurries of snow that were glittering and seemed to be alive. Merlin reminded himself to avoid those later on. 

Once the countdown began, Merlin focused on finding Morgana. He was relieved to see she was only a plate away from him, and looked towards the trees after getting her attention. She nodded silently. He awaited the gong that would end his old life, and begin his new, possibly shorter one. He didn’t even bother looking at the Cornucopia. 50... 49...48… 27...26...25… 9...8...7… 

_Bong._

All the blood rushed to his head, and his heart thudded in his chest. He stepped off the plate, faster than most, and began running. The snow was surprisingly hard-packed and he dashed into the trees in the minimum of a minute. From there he watched, his heart still at an alarmingly increased rate. He saw the first bloodshed, and heard the first canon. And then a second, and a third. People were scattering now, but the Careers were rushing for the Cornucopia hurriedly to get their share of the loot (and everyone else’s.) Merlin grimaced as he saw the blonde head of Arthur in the Careers crowd. 

Beside him, a stick snapped. Merlin whipped around and saw only Morgana, who was standing nervously, on the edge of flight. 

“Come on, let’s find a water source. We don’t know if this snow is safe.” Merlin whispered, afraid of being heard even from this far away. Morgana nodded, and together they made their way farther and farther into the woods. 

Luckily, a stream was not too far away, and crowded by the riverbank was trees to climb. Merlin grimaced at the lack of supplies they had, and went about scavenging berries and herbs that he remembered clearly enough were safe. They needed to have plenty of food by nightfall. Morgana had proudly shown him a knife, and Merlin stared at it in amazement. 

“Morgana… this is amazing!” He breathed, and took it, eyeing her with gratitude. 

“I’ll get us food, I studied the herbs and berries chart well. We can eat from that, then maybe get back to the Cornucopia and get some rope. Or find some. So that we can set snares, y’know?” Merlin said, and Morgana smiled at him. She hadn’t spoken much, and Merlin suspected that it was due to shock, which was really not a big surprise. He gripped her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, then headed off to collect berries before the sun set.

Just as dusk was falling, he heard the snaps of twigs and loud, rowdy voices. Merlin shuddered in horror and quickly and quietly made his way back to their “camp.” Morgana was waiting, and he nodded for her to get up in a tree. He carried their supplies up high into one of the pines, getting scraped every second. He was used to the scratches, though, so he paid them no mind as the Careers passed below them, too careless to look up. Merlin let out a huge breath as they walked away, not realizing he had been holding it back. 

He glanced to Morgana but saw she was not there. Frantically, he searched higher, and saw her climbing from a branch sturdily onto his tree. He climbed up to meet her and together they shivered in the cold. He rationed out the berries and herbs (he had found some to reduce hunger cramps) and they ate ravenously. After sitting rather awkwardly side by side, knowing they wouldn’t fall out the tree while they rested (because of it’s closely placed branches) Merlin felt a head being pressed against his shoulder. He scooted closer to Morgana for warmth and together they fell asleep in the warmest position they could be in. 

When Merlin woke, it was not daytime. The anthem was blaring, and his eyes shot to the sky before he could stop himself. Faces flashed over the “sky”, covering the stars with a strangely glossy tone. 

11 people. 11 people dead, because of the sadistic games. He shuddered and Morgana cuddled up closer to him. He may have been blushing, but it was so cold it was hard to tell, and his nose and cheeks -and ears, and hands- were already bright red. He didn’t feel about Morgana in any way except as a possible ally. 

He lay his head on hers, which was resting on her shoulder, and fell to sleep again. 

This time when Merlin woke it was due to viscous bird calls rather than music. He shook Morgana lightly, shielding her eyes. He knew to the cameras it would look as if he was blocking out the sun for her, but sometimes when people with magick awoke their eyes would flash in defence. The gamemakers would kill her if they saw that. 

Nearby a branch cracked and fell with a thud to the ground. Merlin took his hand away just in time to see a fading blue-gold. She smiled sleepily at him and he smiled back. 

“Morgana, glad to see you’re still alive. I think we should scope out how to loot the Cornucopia.” Merlin suggested. Morgana yawned and nodded eagerly. 

“Yes, yes. We’ll climb over, get as close as we can, then plan.” She replied, still a little dazed. She shook her head slightly and straightened herself out. Merlin smiled fondly at her and decided that he would use the hole in the tree to store their belongings apart from the knife. That he tucked into his belt. They leapt from tree to tree stealthily, quick, agile, and quite. The trees seemed to have grown between the short time gap, and now they extended almost to the Cornucopia, stopping a mere 50 feet away, instead of yards. 

From there high above position, they could see nothing out of the ordinary apart from the shining golden cavern. It was still piled with supplies and weapons. Merlin eyed a long machete, but it was too close to the center of the Cornucopia to dream of. 

Breaking him out of his trance was the sound of a canon. It bellowed across the forest, and Merlin shuddered. Perhaps the Careers had found another victim, or maybe it was just some Mutts doing their brutal duty. 

Scanning the treeline and the fallen objects, Merlin found multiple objects he would like: rope, a backpack, a sleeping bag, and what seemed to be a serrated knife. He pointed them out to Morgana silently, and together they planned what each of them would dash to get. Merlin planned out his route, knife, backpack, trees. Morgana would get the rope and the sleeping bag. Since they had to go to different places to get their separate items, Merlin moved left among the trees. He jumped down silently and then ran as fast as he could. 

Knife, _check_. Backpack…… _check_. He could breathe again. He jumped into one of the trees and began to climb. To his relief, he saw Morgana trees away, motioning for him to come quickly. He hopped to her agilely, and she pointed to where the oblivious Careers were stumbling out of the opposite side of the forest. Arthur was not among them. 

For a moment, Merlin fretted that Arthur had been killed (he didn’t know why, it wasn’t like he was friends with him- but then the clumsy bloke stepped out of the undergrowth. Merlin sighed in relief. 

They moved back to their tree, only recognizing it from the hole in its trunk. Merlin decided that he would use the rope right away to make snares, and tied it onto a branch a few trees away from theirs. He needed to make sure that if they looked up, they wouldn’t see Merlin or Morgana. 

A canon echoed in the distance for the second time that day, and Merlin winced. He felt for the poor soul who had just been taken. 

That night, he watched the stars intently, waiting for the death counts. In total, there had been 3 deaths today, and 11 yesterday. District 12, 8, 3, 7, and 5 were out. One from District 6, 4, 10,and 2. Thankfully, the Careers had not been so lucky this year and one of them had died today. He felt no remorse for them, for they probably rushed into death with false pride and faked honor. 

He fell asleep shuddering in the cold, huddled next to Morgana in the small sleeping bag. It helped conceal them, for it was dark brown and not metallic, but his ears were still freezing and each breath was laboured and icy. His breath billowed out in front of him, and finally, he felt himself drift away to a peaceful land where the Games didn’t exist, and he had a spacious home with a loving father and ever present food and warmth. 

He was in for a surprise when he woke up. 

Jeers and shouts. Those were the noises that had awoken him from his peaceful slumber. Morgana was stirring next to him, and he barely had time to think before a knife thudded in the trunk of the tree next to them. 

“Morgana!” He yelled, and pulled the sleeping bag off them. He used it as a distraction and dropped it below down onto the Careers. Two of them got caught under it, and struggled a moment while the others growled like Mutts below. Merlin caught sight of Arthur, and realized he was hanging back from the others. Probably wanted his own turn to attack them.

Quickly gathering their scanty belongings, they began to flee, jumping from tree to tree. The Careers followed, determined for a kill. He whispered to Morgana that they should split up. She nodded, and they leapt onto two separate trees. 

Merlin knew in a moment of dread that he would not be seeing her again. 

The Careers followed her, not him. Perhaps they thought she was an easier target, or maybe they had more strategy than Merlin gave them credit for. Maybe they knew it would get to him when they killed her. 

He felt the canon before he heard it, breaking into sobs as a scream flew over the forest. It was horrible. It was heartbreaking. It was all Merlin could do not to unleash the full fury of his magic right there and then, as the birds flew up into the skies, disturbed by the screams. Merlin was still sobbing in the treetops, and they seemed to hear him. 

Which, considering it was he Hunger Games, was not a good thing. 

They changed their scattered course to follow the noise, and Merlin barely noticed before they were upon him. Cawing and screeching, they enveloped him in a case of feathers and talons. He somehow managed to descend lower down into the tree, where the birds found it harder to reach him through the branches. 

By this time the Careers had gathered below his tree, laughing and twittering at the sight of him being pelted by beaks. He could not see Arthur, but knew he would be there in the crowd. Waiting. 

His throat lodged in disgust and with an exaggerated leap, he fell upon the Careers with a thud. As he had planned, the birds followed. Soon there was too much commotion to see, and there was no way the Careers could do anything to Merlin. He crawled out of the mosh pit, gasping for breath that had been stolen from him by his jump. He attempted to stand up, but his leg faltered beneath him, throbbing in pain. Just as he had worked up the tolerance to hobble away, a Career was tossed out of the mob. 

Mordred. His icy blue eyes glared at Merlin, a face of pure hatred directed wholly at Merlin. He raised his blade, growling and approaching him with startling speed. 

He cowered under his gaze, knowing that if only he could use his magic he would save his own life. But he couldn’t, because he would suffer a fate worse than death if he did. 

So he let Mordred gain on him, and he let Mordred raise his sword above Merlin’s chest. He knew that this would be the end, and that Merlin, the powerful sorcerer, would be taken down by a meager sword. 

But that didn’t happen. As Mordred brought down his shining blade, it hit the force of another. Merlin looked up, dazed and frightened, and his eyes met Arthur’s. Merlin could only whimper in fear as the battle unfolded. The other Careers were still having trouble with the birds, but it wouldn’t take long for them to finish with them. 

Merlin watched, trying not to bring attention upon himself as he slowly got up from the base of the tree his back had been pressed against, and began to hobble away. He heard a canon, and didn’t care to look back, knowing that this might be the end of him once more if the wrong person had died. 

But to his gratitude, Merlin felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Arthur, who was breathless from his fight. 

“Merlin… I’m sorry. I needed… Morgana… I’m sorry.” He blustered up the courage to speak to Merlin, and Merlin smiled weakly at him.

“I can do nothing but forgive you. You did save my life, afterall.” He replied, and Arthur looked pleased with that comment. He smiled nervously at Merlin and put an arm around his shoulder, helping Merlin stabilize his weight and ease him in walking. They managed to get far away from the battle in one day, and found themselves much farther down the stream, near a rocky outcropping where trees were thick and voluptuous. Their branches stretched out above them like a canopy, and Merlin decided that up there would be the best place to go. 

“Alright, we’re going up there, it’s safest.” Merlin stated, and pushed Arthur’s arm off of him. He stumbled the few steps to the tree before beginning to climb up slowly and steadily. When he was up at the canopy, he looked down at Arthur, who seemed distraught. 

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, sitting down cross-legged on a sturdy main branch that webbed across to another. 

“I, uh, never really got the chance to climb trees in my District. I don’t feel comfortable in heights.” He stammered, a light blush of embarrassment shrouding his cheeks. Merlin sighed, and climbed back down, wincing at his throbbing leg. 

“I’ll have to show you, come on. It’s not that scary, I can assure you these trees are sturdy.” He muttered, and took Arthur’s hand, leading him to the tree. 

Bit by bit, Merlin told Arthur where to put his hands and feet and where not to step. After Merlin himself climbed up to join Arthur, who was sitting uneasily on the same branch Merlin had been on, he began explaining what branches were dead, what were ok to step on, which trees were easiest to climb and where to never step. 

After chatting idly, Merlin realized that he had been talking about trees half the afternoon. He blushed and began busying himself with the rope he had collected. He set another trap and then shared out the remainder of the berries he had collected with Arthur. Arthur insisted on helping at some point, but Merlin turned him down, walking across the branches to him with ease. 

“You’re still not used to trees, you’ll just fall and then I’ll have to protect you.” He protested. Arthur took that as a valid answer, and Merlin found himself pleased that he was being listened to. As the afternoon grew colder, Merlin mourned the loss of his sleeping bag. How unfortunate that he had to throw it at the ungrateful Careers. 

He ended up pressed against Arthur, careful not to press his still painful leg against Arthur’s. He let it hang from the canopy, and knew that it would be by great chance if anyone happened to see it. He knew that Arthur still feared falling, for his muscles were tense and his jaw was clenched. Merlin casually swung his arm around Arthur, and when Arthur looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. 

“You’re scared of falling, aren’t you? I’ll just hold onto you, so you won’t fall.” Merlin stated, and Arthur nodded, though Merlin couldn’t help but notice the blush spreading across his cheeks. Before Merlin drifted off to sleep, the Anthem played. With dread, Merlin watched the sky. Only Morgana’s pallid face shone among the stars. Merlin shuddered slightly and a tear slipped down his eye. 

He fell asleep feeling alone, because no one could understand how he felt at the moment, not to him, anyway. 

When Merlin woke up, he was surprised to see that Arthur was awake, and even more surprised to learn that Merlin had pressed up against Arthur and let his head fall on his shoulder. He told himself it must have been his body wanting more warmth, but he wondered to himself why Arthur hadn’t moved or woken him when he did happen to wake up for himself. 

When Merlin announced his awakening with a clearing of his throat, though, Arthur flinched and pulled away, nearly falling off the tree in the process. Merlin grabbed his hand and hoisted him to a sitting position once more, tutting to himself at the strain on his leg. 

He checked on the snare, and was delighted to see that a surprisingly plump rabbit had been caught, still thrashing slightly, but docile, as if it had been caught for hours. Merlin supposed it could have been. He quickly snapped its neck and started a small fire, careful not to let too much smoke be produced, in case the Careers saw it and found them. 

He looked at the rabbit forlornly, not sure what to do with it. He sat cross-legged on the floor until he heard the tree shaking behind him. He turned around to see Arthur slowly making his way down from the tree. After ages, his feet touched the ground and he walked over to Merlin. He smiled at him and then beckoned for Merlin to give him his knife. 

Not knowing what Arthur was doing, Merlin complied. Arthur simply started skinning the rabbit. Merlin flinched every time a drop of blood escaped the body, but after Arthur noticed this he move closer to the fire. Once he had finished, he made a weird contraption for over the fire and skewered the rabbit. Merlin thanked him and began to go look for berries, because that was really all he could do, when Arthur called him back. 

“Merlin, your leg is badly injured, even a simpleton like I could see that. Sit down, I’ll get something to ease your pain, just tell me what. I know you spent time studying that chart.” He says quietly. Merlin blushed. He had been watching him train?

Slowly he made his way back to the camp, and directed Arthur to gather the herbs while he keeps an eye on the rabbit. After nearly an hour of Arthur disappearing into the woods, Merlin began to worry. He had taken the rabbit off the fire ages ago and eaten a little, but was sure that the big guy would want to eat more than him. 

He began to feel distraught just as Arthur clambered into the clearing. 

“Took you long enough, I thought you’d died.” Merlin grumbled, and though his words were harsh, there was a tone of relief in his voice. Arthur smiled apologetically and began to eat, and finally they put out the fire, covered the remains of it with the surrounding unmelted snow, and climbed back up to the tree. 

In the middle of the night, a canon blew. 

There was only one face in the sky tonight, just like the night before. It filled him with a pang of sorrow, the fact that he didn’t even know the man he wished to be dead. It said clearly that he was District 9. Who was out now? Merlin couldn’t remember, couldn’t bring it upon himself to. He just cuddled up against Arthur, his face one of grief and guilt. 

The next day, Merlin was awoken not by the calls of Careers but rather ones of animals. His leg felt much better, and he found he could walk around with ease and climb as swiftly as usual. He silently thanked Arthur for his help. Looking around drearily, he saw that rather than a few birds spread throughout the trees, there were tons on one tree. 

The next tree was sagging with the weight of animals that were unfamiliar to him. They seemed to lurch back and forth, swaying on the aching branches. Merlin found them to be the likes of monkeys bred and mutated with various different animals. Dogs, panthers, parrots, other monkeys, you name it. It was all there, perched on one tree -one tree that happened to look very forlorn and worn down by monkey mutts- and Merlin was rather disturbed by it. 

He shook Arthur awake gently, and motioned towards the mutts. Arthur paled visibly, but said nothing, taking the hint. Together they climbed slowly down the tree, keeping a close eye on the said mutts. 

The second Merlin’s feet had touched the ground, the monkeys began screeching. Together as one they jumped from tree to tree, at a surprisingly fast speed. Merlin and Arthur began to run, speeding along, attempting and trying their hardest not to trip over ice patches hidden underneath the snow or roots. 

It was too late when he realized they were being herded. 

They were pushed into the center of the arena, and Merlin could clearly see others having the same fate. A canon rang out, and Merlin also happened to know what the animals did should you not have listened to being herded. 

There were all the tributes, all pushed into one spot in the arena. 

And only some of them had weapons. 

The Careers, of course, gathered themselves quickly and begin running and destroying any shaken up lower “ranked” tributes. There were still three of them left, and combined with their weapons and brute force, the boy from District 10 fell. Blood gurgled in his mouth and Merlin had to tear his eyes away from the gory sight. District 10 had lost, they were no longer in the games. 

It took him a while to realize he should pull out his knife. Thankfully, Arthur had one too, and together they stood back to back, prepared to fight for eachother and with eachother. The boy and girl from District one - Mordred and Morgause- sped together in unison, slicing and ripping at whatever hope Merlin had to survive these games. Merlin stood in shock as they killed their own fellow Career. 

“Uh-. uh, Arthur?” He squeaked. Arthur turned a little from where their backs were pressed together. 

“I’ve never exactly fought before… we’re going to die,” Merlin apologized before the fight was upon them. 

Mordred seemed to have lost his sword, and this would be a knife fight to remember. Somewhere in the swift jabs and crazed kicks Merlin felt himself connect with something, and it gave a light gasp before falling to a kneel. He turned to look at it, and saw it was the District 1 girl. 

He looked at the knife in his hands in horror. He was a murderer. He had just given someone their death message, their ticket to the doors that ended it all. He felt terrible, even if she had been a little malicious and ugly-hearted. 

But then she smiled, and a moment later Merlin knew why. 

As the blade pierced his thigh, sinking deep into his skin. 

Pain burst through him, and he screamed. It took all he could not to burst them into flames with the power he had. He felt his ring -that he had forgotten about until now- begin to burn. He whimpered, the battle forgotten in his mind. Mordred had fled after stabbing him, and the remaining tributes -District 9 girl, and District 6 boy- were long gone after they had seen what was going down. There was no doubt they were all within a few miles, because if you looked hard enough you could still see the wall of animals crowding the exits and escapes. 

He looked down slowly to see the ring glowing a painful red, bright hot, He covered it quickly with his other hand, and compromised to press both hands against the aching wound that was still throbbing and gushing blood. Once his hands were pressed firmly against his leg he turned to where he expected Arthur to be. 

Not too surprised, Arthur had been basically unscathed in the battle. It was Merlin who had taken the brunt of the battle, but with his poor training that was only to be expected. He was currently leaning over Morgause, checking her pulse. 

“Arthur! I’m glad you’re ok, I was wo-” He broke off as his leg crumpled underneath him and his vision went black. 

“Merlin? Merlin! Are you awake? Is that you?” Merlin shook his head and groaned, trying to get the angry voice out of his head. 

“Shut that thing up… that voice…. ow, my head, ow, oh- OW! My leg, Dear Lord!” He yelled, and opened his eyes slowly. It was near dusk, but the snow littered around made for a very bright awakening. 

“Arthur! Wait… oh.” His voice trailed off when he remembered where he was. Arthur, on the other hand, looked not disappointed but elated. 

“Merlin! Merlin, I thought you’d never wake up!” He whispered. Merlin realized in shock that Arthur had a tears slipping from his eye. Merlin smiled gently at him and patted his shoulder reassuringly. Arthur chuckled and pulled him into a hug. Merlin winced- his leg was not fully healed- but let himself slip his arms around Arthur. 

He only pulled back when he felt Arthur stop shaking. He tugged back Arthur’s hair so that it wouldn’t get into his face. It seemed to have grown longer and more unruly in the short time in the arena. How many days had it been? He had already forgotten. 

It didn’t help his memory when Arthur pulled him into a kiss. 

 

He froze at first, stiff under his lips, but soon melted into it, pressing against him. It was chaste and quick, and Merlin flushed as he pulled away. He turned to look somewhere else, not meeting Arthur’s gaze of adoration and happiness. 

“Merlin… you were only out for about 12 hours. District 9 and 6 are out…. Mordred’s been busy.” He cleared his throat and announced. Merlin felt sick once more. Mordred was after them. 

“Right… so that means that we’re the last ones left. Which also means-” 

A dark chuckle interrupted Merlin’s thoughts. 

“Yes, Merlin, it means I’m looking for you now.” He sneered at Merlin’s look of fear, and stepped into the circle -one that Merlin hadn’t noticed previously but it was now obvious they were in a neat circle just inside the clearing of woods- ominously. Arthur emitted something related to a growl, pulling out a sword that Merlin assumed to be from the Cornucopia incident. 

“It’s over, Mordred. You cannot beat me, and even then, Merlin can-” He faltered, then pretended like it hadn’t happened. Merlin felt shame wash through him. Excitement from their kissed had washed away and been replaced with despair, despair that the feelings he harbored for Arthur would not be healed after… no, that wasn’t going to happen. He was more worried that Arthur would forget about him after he inevitably had to kill Merlin. 

He was awoken from his thoughts at the clash of a sword. Mordred and Arthur’s swords formed a cross for mere moments before they whipped into action again. It was hard to keep track of the movement, but Merlin helped as much as he could, aiding Arthur with his glowing eyes and silent prayers. 

It happened too soon for Merlin to register, a sword had hit its mark. 

It was not Arthur’s. 

A pointed blade stuck from the side of his stomach, attached to Mordred’s hand. Merlin felt a cry rip through him, but before he had time to react too drastically, another clash of metal resounded through the woods, and Mordred too had a sword in his stomach. 

“Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon.” Mordred cackled, and fell silent, his eye slipping back into his head. Arthur fell to his knees, fatally wounded. 

“No, no. Arthur, come now. Come on, silly. Don’t be silly, it’s not even a graze. Stop being a wimp.” His voice cracked on the last word. He buried his head in Arthur’s chest, and began yelling. He heard a canon blow, but Arthur was still breathing, faintly. 

“Shhh…. Merlin, it’s ok! You won! Merlin, you won the Hunger Games, would you look at that!” Arthur smiled. Merlin sobbed, not accepting this to be fact. 

“NO!” He roared, magic ripping through his words, cascading into the arena. His eyes burned golden, and even the trees bent to his will. He pressed his hand onto Arthur’s wound and felt it heal slowly, the tendons and threads of skin looping together into the weave of life that the Fates had woven with their own hands. He was defying them and he didn’t care, somehow it was ok, as long as he did it for him. 

Arthur gazed at him, but there was no fear in his eyes. Only surprise, and a little admiration, if Merlin was correct. 

Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur’s, and to everyone in Panem it seemed like they had evaporated. 

But they hadn’t. Merlin had to explain an awful lot, he knew that much by the way was looking at him. Then again, their lips still hadn’t separated, and Merlin really didn’t want that to change.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a Kudos if you liked the story, -maybe I'll make a Epilogue- Kudos isn't something anyone can see unless they take the time to read through the Kudos-ers. Any little Kudos actually makes my day. (I've not been having very good ones, but no need to go on about that) love you all, even the scrooges -jk- who don't Kudos! Thanks for reading!


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